


Infomercial Hour

by kinkyhux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Realistic, Sibling Incest, Somnophilia, Underage Sex, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 02:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkyhux/pseuds/kinkyhux
Summary: Sam's 15, Dean just turned 20, they're home alone. Sometimes Dean forgets himself. Sometimes Dean doesn't think about the consequences. Sometimes his baby brother's all he sees, and all he thinks about, and something wild arises in him.





	Infomercial Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Don't get me wrong, I've read a bit of wincest, but it's never realistic, especially when it's weecest. This is how I imagine their sexual relationship starting: A naive Dean and a tearful Sammy.

Dad's gone for a week. Dean's there, pale eyes trained on the television. It's infomercial hour, but he keeps watching. Sam's too old to curl up at his side in the dim light, but Dean wants him to. He's sitting, practically leaning over the side of the bed, as far away as physically possible.

Dean sighs, frustrated. Why can't he just ask? Why can't he just reach over and pull his dumb long hair, press Sammy's stupid head into his chest and breathe him in. Like when Sam was 10 and couldn't stand the horror movies. They still shared a bed for fuck's sake.

But Sam has free will or something, and he's 15, and he's not gay. As much as he might seem gay, Dean knows he isn't. It just doesn’t work out that way.

Sam's eyes are closed, his mouth partly open. Dean touches the pendant on his neck and asks whoever's listening for forgiveness.

He reaches his arm over, pulling his little brother upright against the headboard. Sam groans and stretches, turning to face Dean and falling back to sleep within the next few minutes.

Dean doesn't look back at the TV; he's seen this shitty vacuum a hundred times and it never looks any better than a regular old vacuum. He's heard the same polished voice describe petty annoyances.

The shallow breaths of his sleeping brother, while heard a million times and counting, are a modern marvel.

They're close enough that Dean can run his hands through Sam's hair, long and damp from his shower. He smells like soap and Dean leans over just enough to press his ear into his hair and breathe deeply. Sammy moves closer, reaching out to pull Dean close, still asleep. Dean moves until his little brother is practically laying half on him, along his side, Dean’s arm wrapped around him. He’s starting to gain muscle, from all the work he has to do, from lugging laundry and lifting weights in his most recent gym class. Dean feels muscle and bone in his back, traces the lines with his fingers.

“Damn it,” Dean whispers, and presses a hand to the front of his jeans, giving himself some attention as he looks at Sam’s sleeping form. He seems so small, despite his awkward length. And his skin looks so soft, no lines, no worries. Dean envies him. Sam has the world in his palm, and Dean only has his stupid, aching dick in his own, rubbing one out to his brother.

But he keeps going. Goes until not touching Sam is impossible, and he’s kissing Sam’s face and touching his chest, rubbing across his nipples. Sam moans softly, eyes still closed. His breath quickens, and Dean knows he’s awake, but he doesn’t stop. Reaches beneath the slack waist of Sam’s pajama pants and grips his hard cock and it feel amazing, and Sam’s eyes shoot open, jaw dropped, stunned.

“D-Dean. I- shit...”

“Never been touched like this before, have you?” Sam shakes his head hesitantly, squirming under the pressure of Dean’s hand. He looks over at Dean’s dick, red head slick with precome and Dean’s spit. “Yeah, like what you see?” Sam nods again. “Fuck yeah, that’s the cock that’s gonna fuck you up, Sammy. Fuck.”

“Dean,” Sam moaned, softly, closing his eyes tight as heat rises to his face. “Dean!” He was close, Dean could tell. He handled Sam onto his tighs, just close enough that he could wrap his hand around both of them. Sam was… not without package. He’d probably get bigger as he grew up, probably be yet another Winchester stud.

Dean locked eyes with Sam, and groaned when he saw the tears flowing. Sam was crying, hands gripping Dean’s shoulders like he was afraid he might fall off. Sam was crying, nearly sobbing, saying Dean’s name like he didn’t know where he was.

“Shh, baby. I’ve got you.”

“Dean, stop, I can’t-- This-- Please.”

“It’s okay, Sammy… Gonna make you feel real good. Promise.”

“Dean! Oh, god…”

Sam came silently, except for sniffling and chocking around a sob. Dean growled and shoved Sam flat on his back, ripping Sam’s clothes off and then his own.

“Dean! Please, I can’t do this--”

Dean didn’t listen, just shoved his fingers into Sam’s mouth and thrusted into his hand at the sight. “Oh, fuck, wait-- I’ve got lube, hang on…”

“What?” Sam asked around Dean’s fingers, eyes wide. And then he bit down, hard. Dean yelped and when he took his hand away, he slapped Sam.

“What the fuck?”

“Stop!” Sam cried. “Dean, stop! This isn’t right.”

Dean smirked and said, “Stay there, baby boy.”  
Sam couldn’t move, racked with sobs.

When Dean came back, he poured lube on his fingers and fucked them into Sam, who yelped and wriggled and cried some more. “Stop cryin’, this is gonna feel good.”

Sam’s breathing became short and erratic, and he knew this was a panic attack, they both did, but Dean wasn’t going to stop.

He made sure to use the whole bottle, just to keep Sam from bleeding, and then shoved into Sam’s fucking perfect, tight hole, slowly making his way through. Sam clenched and unclenched, hitting Dean in the chest. Dean grabbed Sam’s hands and held them above Sam’s head, a bead of sweat dropping from his brow to Sam’s as he loomed over him.

He started thrusting, each impact eliciting a cry from Sam’s swollen lips. “Look at that, hard again, pretty boy. All for me. Not so scary now, is it?” Sam didn’t respond. “It’s not scary, right?”

“N-No.”

“Of course not.”

Dean could feel every muscle move, and thrust as fast and hard as he could, every pulse of his cock almost bouncing around like an echo. It felt better than any sex he’d ever had, tight wet heat around him, Sam’s tears and snot rolling down his face, making his choke.

Dean came, saying Sam’s name like a prayer.

Sam cried in the bathroom for what seemed like hours.

Dean fell asleep, sated and comfortable.


End file.
